Every Christmas time I would write a letter to Father Christmas. I would compile a list of the things I want to receive based on what toys I had seen kids at my school playing with, or what adverts on the TV contained the happiest looking kids. Every year I was disappointed with what I got because my sister looked to have received something better.
The pressure to find a life partner, get married, and eventually spawn some heathen offspring is intense when you are young. Family members will ask if you’ve got a boyfriend or girlfriend, work colleagues will offer to set you up on hideous blind dates, your friend’s partners will try and get you a hook up with their friend so that you stop gatecrashing dates. Then once you are in a relationship people will start questioning when you will get married, and if you might soon be posting a Facebook photo with tiny shoes that says “Coming Soon”.
Part of growing up is finding who you are, it’s navigating the tricky path to find your spirit animal and to understand your inner child. It’s a beautiful journey of self discovery and choosing to be wonderfully, perfectly, happy. It’s clean eating, yoga, and drinking 4000 litres of water a day. You will never be a true grownup unless you wake up every morning and plaster a giant smile on your face from the minute your kale smoothie touches your lips.
Except that’s all bollocks.
Look at that incredibly catchy and intelligent title. What will this blog be about, I wonder? Wow. I cannot wait to win an award one day for titles with flair and style.
Anyway. On to the good* stuff.
There are a couple of things to remember when you are cooking hungover: keep it carb based, include lots of salt, and if you think there is enough cheese you are wrong and should add more. If possible, aforementioned cheese needs to be melted. This is pretty much the same no matter what you have been drinking the night before, with the exception of whiskey because whiskey is an evil drink and you won’t be alive to cook.